The History of Switzerland
by mimi 007
Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring the evolution of Vash Zwingli, currently three stories featuring the 1500, the 1867 and the current times. More possibly coming if you are interested!
1. Bloody Tips - 1480s-1530s

This is, for now, the first in a line of one-shots with Switzerland, that portrays his changes and developments through time. I'll put them in order from earliest to last, and I have a few other ideas, but I won't promise that I'll make any more of these than the three I'll put up today. Most likely I won't have time to make them, as I'm also making a lot of other things and I will start on writing my book in a moment.

Warnings: A lot of blood and fighting, hence the rating.

This story is able to go on anywhere from about 1480s-1530s, which is the height of the their mercenary time as well as makes the presence of handguns greater. They were mercenaries from about 1420, though, after beating up the surrounding nations enough to acknowledge their military proficiency and give up sending this 'bunch of peasants' back in its place.

* * *

Bloody Tips

* * *

The smallest bit of adrenaline had already been unleashed in his veins as he stood in front of his people, holding on to the pike loosely in one hand. Further up the line, to his right and his men's left, the King of France was doing exactly the same as he. Talking to the troops. Getting them ready for battle.

If he turned his head he would have seen France standing beside his king, as he was standing beside the leader of his band. But unlike France, he wasn't silent, and both he and the leader of the Swiss mercenary band took turns in yelling to their troops.

"The battle is on!" the human screamed, raising his pike. The men were listening, waiting for their moods to flare at the words of their captains. They wore clothes, and they were shining red compared to the blue coats of the rest of the Frenchmen. But they had no armor.

"The enemy is in front of us!" the nation himself yelled, standing as tall as he could with his small stature. A wave came through the crowd with growing excitement, yet he didn't lift his pike to greet them back.

"Look at them," the human continued, gesturing to the other side of the battlefield. They were facing the flank, and their task was to not fall behind the middle of the army to make sure it wouldn't get exposed. At the same time they had to not get too far in front and make their own situation vulnerable – unless it should prove the right choice for victory.

"They're petty!" the nation added to the human's words, seemingly mixing in to his words so naturally and easily. Like they fulfilled one another as they stood in front of their men. And said men gave a roar, distinguishing themselves from the rest of the army in a feral growl.

"Unimportant!" the human yelled. Under loud cries farmers and workers dressed in red clothes raised halberds, pikes and the occasional crossbow or a very rare handgun. Handguns… ugh, he hated those handguns.

"They're our targets!" the nation finished, an eerie undertone in his voice. A new roar, even louder, yet not a single one made a move to break the line and charge unthinkingly. Only a few, young people very silent, too worried for their first, second or third battle to roar along with their elders.

"_Have you understood your role in this battle?" the French Constable asked two Swiss men, and both gave curt nods in agreement. The French King and his nation were not far away, and they were sent blue eyed looks every once in a while. "Magnifique," the Constable continued, nearly dismissing them before he lifted his hand, getting attention to his small form._

"_Who will be our direct opponents?" he asked, and there were no emotions in his voice. "Who are we placed against?" As the French human met his eyes he couldn't suppress a shiver. There was more life in the eye of a corpse, and as a soldier he had seen many of those. The green eyes of what to him was an apprentice captain, a mere child, were empty._

_Still he forced himself to continue. "We thought to fight fire with fire," he explained, seeing a small realization in the eyes of the Swiss captain as the man's eyes slightly widened. "You're against-"_

"Thieves!" the human captain yelled. Beside them the French were beginning to get excited as well, but if it were the reactions from the Swiss mercenaries beside them or the words from their own leader you could not know.

"Liars!" The Swiss were ready to fight, though.

"Cowards!" Their weapons were raised again.

"_Germans_!" The nation spat it like filth contaminating his mouth. Pikes and halberds were slammed into the ground, growls following.

"That's what our enemy is!" A new howl as the older men realized who they were up against.

"They're Landsknechte!" The roars changed from excitement to anger at the sound of the name of the bitter and hated rivals. It got so violent even the more nervous couldn't keep silent, driven by the collective atmosphere of the soldiers. The collective readiness to kill, fight, stab. Their want for blood, or the money that blood brought.

"_If we are up against them," the supposedly young man with dead eyes said, "then I expect you to cover us. At least a little bit. Or you cannot enjoy our services to the fullest." The man's voice grew darker at those words, like magic creating an atmosphere of shadows._

_Even the French Constable moved in uncertainty. The man's size didn't make the effect lesser. There was something about him, a lacking care, an emptiness, like Death hung around him with black arms draped around his shoulders. "You are responsible for yourselves. It's your duty to be the most effective force on the market, even as warfare changes."_

_The green eyes shot lightning at him after those words. It seemed half a threat to make them unemployed, and the Swiss captain developed a worried glint in his eyes. "It's your choice to hire us," the green eyed nation just said, still sounding empty as his voice was venomous. The battle was just about to start and they had a struggle going on amongst themselves. On the side France was watching closely, ready to break them apart. "We have found the way to fight which serves us best, and we will try to keep it until it serves us no more."_

The captain's eyes moved to the side and found the Frenchmen, getting the sign he needed to show that they were ready to engage in combat. "Remember!" he continued, this time to his own men. "If you break line, you die! Keep order!"

"Keep discipline!" the nation beside him bellowed, finally gripping the pike with both hands.

"No running!" the human said.

"No hiding!" the nation continued.

"No fleeing!"

"No cowering!"

"Every man makes the army!"

"You keep fighting until something different is told!"

"And even then you keep order! Do not break the line!"

"Understood?!"

"Yeah!" the men yelled, each and every one, raising their weapons a last time before collectively letting them fall into their hands, readying for battle. Keep order. Keep discipline. No breaking the line. That was what they were always told, in training, in combat, everywhere. No one should flee. When the first one fled the others might follow.

And then, despite the wish to engage in bloodbath, they started walking forward slowly while their pikes fell into a horizontal position, making sure none would run mindlessly into death.

"_I would rather see that as stubbornness than anything," the Constable dared continue his line of words, making the smaller nation simply stare at him. Just stare, with empty, lifeless eyes, not truly showing that he had become offended by his words._

_Then, slowly, he turned his head no, turning away from the man, breaking eye contact. "It's not. It's specialization. We are the strongest line of infantry, specialized in fast, close range attacks. We do not run, keep our contracts, take our place in your armies and fight your battles where you want us to, and we do so with precise tactics developed over more years than you have breathed." He walked towards the entrance of the tent only to wait for his captain to join him._

_Then, with a final, damning and frightening look a sickening smile passed by his lips, making it the first expression his face made since entering. And it wasn't a comforting smile – not even close. "It's not stubbornness. We are simply a tool of precision made for another's use. Whether we get success or failure is all about the hand using us." The smile disappeared and the Swiss nation gave the French one a glare before moving outside to get ready for battle._

Bullets from handguns flew past them, some of them hitting the unprotected men and making them fall. Still there were no wavering, no hesitation in the line even as the man beside you fell. The two formations of pikemen slammed together, blood splattering as soon as they met. Still the formation stayed as the casualties slowly mounted.

Switzerland himself swung the pike and sent it through another man, an enemy, piercing his unprotected chest. Not a single movement implied anything as he stepped over the fallen and coughing man, knowing he was as good as dead. He didn't give him a look as blood erupted between visible ribs, flooding over in a red ocean.

"Forward!" he yelled, and they made the push forward, trying to drive away the enemy. Along the line there were yells telling them to 'keep in line', ordering them to 'stay together', but there was only one word passing over Switzerland's lips. "Forward!" Another enemy came along, aiming his pike at him, but the nation was both smaller and faster. Once more they fell, blood splattering over the ground. And also he got the gracious reward of being used as a rug.

That was when the line came to a halt, the furious onslaught caught by their German counterparts and imitators. "Forward!" the Swiss nation yelled again, demanding them to hold their own against their fiercest enemies. Blood and bodies littered the ground within minutes, the yelling, growling and screaming showing exactly where the case of 'bad war' played out.

A stray bullet flew closely by the nation's face and hit his neighbor instead, hitting the other man's chest and sending him to the ground as well. "Stupid guns!" the young nation yelled, jumping forward and beneath a halberd to send a new man tumbling. The spray of that man's blood hit his clothes and skin, touching his face with the hot, red liquid. It hit his eyes, blinding him, and the first flash of a real emotion penetrated his barriers.

Fear.

He could not see and wanted to run until his sight was back. He wanted to, for panic was arising, angst poking at him to do the only sensible thing in any form of fighting and run. Yet it took him just a moment of hearing his people groan, growl, yell and moan in pain to know he could not abandon them, and he used his dirtied hand to dry away the blood on his face.

Except for smearing it out to fill even more of his face he managed to do a quite good job in removing it from his eyes, getting his vision back just in time to see the new, cursed enemy get in front of him and send a halberd right at him. The next thing he registered was falling, a groan going through his men at the sight of him disappearing and a hesitation in the men around him.

His vision was black even if he knew his eyes were open. He was on his knees, muddy earth slowly swallowing his shins, a mixture of blood and water seeping in to his clothes. Blood bubbled through his skin by his collarbone at the left side of his neck and the whole of his left shoulder and chest felt numb in his open eyed darkness. Tryingly he blinked, tryingly he breathed, attempting to figure out if he was still alive. The hesitation in the column continued even as the enemy still moved, trying to drive them back.

They were losing.

Losing.

They were losing.

They couldn't lose!

He got to his feet again. Or tried. He had to. They couldn't lose – it would cost them money. If their reputation got damaged they would lose money. And that they couldn't! "Forward!" he yelled, still unable to properly see, but that was all they needed to focus and believe in victory again. "Forward!" he repeated, getting a roar as an answer as they moved again, hope coming back to them. The enemy had gotten close enough to nearly trample him, had it not been for his men protecting him. Had he been a normal foot soldier he would have been dead, if not by the hit then the feet of men passing over him.

One of his feet got into the ground, pushing the rest of his body upwards. Still his left arm felt oddly limp, and when he stood once more and tried to lift his hand to hold on to his weapon with both again it failed him. But he couldn't stop now, couldn't let them down and lose their employer no matter what.

"Forward!" he once more yelled even if he still had trouble with taking even a single step. The halberd had pierced his shoulder a little above the heart, blood streamed down his shirt and made it stick to his skin. "Kill them!" he croaked, and somehow managed to get a new roar out of his soon exhausted men. The right hand grabbed the pike firmer and he pushed forward, determination growing in his eyes.

"_Kill them!_"

Somehow the yell flew over the whole of the battlefield with the power of a voice used to scream in angry tantrums, and the singing French could be understood by all the people on the right side. Despite blood and pain his vision was back, though a little blurred, and he lifted the pike in one hand. It was clumsy, yet better than no weapon. Another problem was just that there were no power behind it now.

Yet he could do only one thing. "Forward, all!" Once more yells of encouragement sounded all through the line, trying to make them forget dead friends and the danger of their own lives as they attempted to finish this – and finish it now, for the sake of money and family and lives waiting back home. "Kill them!"

Another enemy among the many went for him, trying to get around the clumsily handled pike and use the nation's injury to his advantage. Gritting his teeth he redirected his pike in the last second and let it rest against the ground for support. It hit the man on the soft flesh beneath his chin, piercing all the way through and sliding all the way through his skull. The man's eyes turned the white out, blood falling from the corner of his mouth when he fell to the ground.

At this point in time Switzerland was seeing red. The stench of blood and death clung to his nostrils and touched his tongue, and his injury made him vulnerable. The others had to die. All die. It was either that or death for him. If he turned and ran it would be the death of all of them. So now the enemy had to die, die, fall and die. "Kill them! Forward and _KILL THEM_!" And he swung the pike forward again, remnants of flesh and blood dripping from its tip.

* * *

He sat leaning against the wall, eyes closed after the long hours of gripping and stabbing with the pike. At his side a man was attending his injury, ignoring the occasional muffled protest of pain as he got a bandage around the shoulder. As always he had told people to keep out, allowing only high ranking people near – and for now, also a doctor.

Yet the situation of people coming in was an unexpected thing. The nation might look young, small and a little weak, seemingly just 15 or 16 years of age, but the soldiers, his people, had learned to respect his skills in leading and fighting by seeing their leaders react to him and seeing his determination. His presence gave hope in battle, even if he isolated himself from… everyone. Even if he was cold. So for someone to get inside… it was unexpected. Unusual.

Unwanted.

Yet the entrance was moved to the side so suddenly. With a sound of annoyance the Swiss nation opened his eyes, only to be silent at the sight of the arriver. Expecting a normal, Swiss human he was now watching the noble, French nation.

Francis stood there, giving a trying smile as Switzerland stood from his place, his face unmoving as he straightened like a soldier. The doctor kept his curses silent for now, knowing the newcomer to be important even if the fewest of people were aware of his special status. And so the human followed the lesser nation, straightening, throwing his attention to the supposed nobleman even if he had a wound to take care of.

"Is it possible I can borrow Zwingli for a while?" the French nation asked, noticing his fellow nation winch at the use of the human name. He even tried to keep it formal then, referring to him by last name. Yet the Swiss seemed unamused.

"I was just finishing bandagi-"

"Actually, you were just leaving," the Swiss fixed the sentence for the other, knowing he would need to keep attention on the Frenchman. Even before the human was out Switzerland continued, referring to the Frenchman in his cold, dead voice. "What do you want from me, my lord?" It was said as though there were nothing but demands from the other person, and the green eyes didn't show even the smallest glint of interest as they met the blue ones.

"I simply have a request for your opinion in a tactical matter. Would you mind following me?" The taller blond gestured for him to follow, and he did without a sound, not caring for the fact that his face and clothes were still dirty from the battling. He didn't even ask as they moved through the camp, and left it to Francis to stir any conversation.

"So… how are you doing?" the older vaguely tried. The younger just gave him a sarcastic look, his gaze raised upwards to be on level with that of the physically about 22-year-old. He didn't answer as they got past group after group of soldiers sitting down and enjoying a break after their victory. "I mean it," the older still continued, and had you been a little more open, a little more alive, you would have seen the slight flash of concern. Switzerland just… didn't want to see it. "I have known of your existence since you were very small. Is it not natural for me to consider your well-being?" They neared the main tent, getting inside while the older still spoke. "There are not many like you and me, and I do remember you as an angry little boy with an occasional hint of a smile. Where is that hint now a days?"

"Gone," the Swiss simply answered, not interested in that kind of conversation. "You wouldn't care anyway, my lord," he continued, looking around the room. He knew for a fact that nations did not care for nations, he had felt that on his own body and mind. Most likely Francis was checking him to see if he had any weaknesses, trying to figure out the best way to break his defenses so he could invade him. "Why am I here?"

"As said, I want your opinion, if you don't mind helping me." The King was there, along with French noblemen and soldiers. Not a place for a small, poor mercenary like him. Nor a small, unimportant country. They all had formed a circle about a place or game. "I know for a fact that you are good at maneuvering in the terrain, and that you have used it to your advantage in the past. How about telling us what would be our next move in this war?" The Frenchmen's looks were filled with varying degrees of disdain, in no way encouraging Switzerland to open up his thoughts.

"I am more accustomed to mountains and fighting in mountainous terrain, my lord," he explained, causing some of the humans to give a snorting laugh. Of course a Swiss would know of mountains, it was a joke in and of itself, but could that even be used to anything?

"Why are we even asking a common soldier such tricky questions," one of the noblemen said. Even with the insult the Swiss kept his ground, his wounded shoulder sagging slightly as he coldly regarded the French nation. In the room was the very same Constable that had doubted him earlier, and he was among the smirking men. But he didn't allow them to be anything to him – as long as he got their money he would make sure to manage them. Unless they decided to threaten his own country.

"He is no common man," Francis simply said, defending him as clearly the man wouldn't defend himself. Though he looked young in this company with his physical 20-some years they all knew who he was, and as such they had to respect him. Yet their smirks didn't falter, and though Switzerland didn't look at them their looks were stored in his memory. Laughing… disregarding him… not taking him seriously. "The man here threw out Habsburgs from his land even before any of you were born – with an army of peasants." Slowly the humans understood just what they were dealing with. "And he kept them out despite two hundred years of fighting."

Yes, the understanding had reached them, and most smirks were traded for either confusion or interest. One whispered '_Switzerland_', and even though he hated to have his identity known by outsiders a part of him couldn't help but be smug at their reaction. That would teach them to judge him. Even if it couldn't matter.

"I cannot help you, my lord," he repeated even as he neared a map upon the table. "The only reason I was able to throw the idiot out was because of the terrain. I used the forests and the mountains and the mobility and swiftness of an army used to the landscape." His eyes moved over the map, understanding it even though he hadn't been on the tactical side of the table for years. And even though he had been a very different person when he had been deciding there.

A child. Filled with hurt and anger about the Austrian's actions. He had gone from 7 to 13 in the period of their fighting, and his mood had only gone downhill from there. His beliefs. His whole being had slipped away into a dark void as he and his people gained fighting as a habit, a profession first to protect their country, then make money for the country, instead of a burden.

On the map were forests and rivers, like there were in the real world outside. Drawn out neatly as markers told where to go and what to do. His eyes scanned it, automatically seeing the opportunities the landscape gave them even without the presence of cliffs and mountains.

"If you are Switzerland," one of the higher nobles asked, and for a moment he moved his dead, green eyes to him before back to the map. "Then how come you are here? There are Swiss troops many places. Why choose to place your… mighty presence among us rather than, say, Spain, who whose army holds nearly as many of your troops?"

The unwillingness to answer the questions struck him hard. His eyes still graced the map – otherwise he would have been staring angrily. Francis simply watched him with interest while they waited for him to answer, not realizing the apparently 16-year-old child was stubborn and bold, refusing to answer a personal question from someone far over his rank.

Finally, attempting to save the situation, the French nation spoke again. A part of him knew it would be hard to communicate with the younger nation – another part him hadn't expected him to be that cold. "You have absolutely no thoughts on our situation?" There was the smallest shake of the head from the younger, and the Frenchman gave a crooked smile in return. "And if we raise your pay?" There were a few movements of disdain at those words from the humans, but it got Switzerland's attention and the green eyes pierced at the blue ones.

The interest you could see in them couldn't really be described as an interest. Interest was a feeling too alive to be in those dead pools. It was rather a hunger, a thirst that was to be found, as though money and payment was the most valuable thing. The only way to keep going in the pitiful existence he had right now… for France realized, suddenly and harshly, that he couldn't call what the Swiss was going through a life. It was an existence. And somehow that thought, that new information, made him sad.

Finally there was the sign of approval as the Swiss let his eyes fall to the map again without denying the new deal, getting closer. "There are the rivers," he said, pointing down and trailing it over the imaginary land. "With a clever tactic you'd be able to drive your enemy down into the stream, and if they are heavily armored it would be certain death, but it would require great mobility and force. The battle should be beside the river, not with it behind you, as the enemy would be able to strike you down the same way as you plan on striking them. The slowest soldiers should be at the flank nearest the river bank so the faster can curl around them – both because the speed is needed in the movement to drive the enemy and because the ground on the riverbank can be soft and thereby render horses useless. My own men would be the best to have on the flank by the river, as the tactic needed would be to stand firm – among our specialty." At this his eyes hit the Constable, challenging him on their previous argument. "Either that or you place your own armored infantry at the river, since they are the least mobile, with my men in the middle and the cavalry furthest from the river, using our mobility and the mobility of the horses to drive them down." His eyes were still boring themselves into the Constable's hesitant glance.

And then he continued speaking. "But it is a risky move and you should only engage in battle by the river if you are sure you have control over the situation or you are deeply desperate. One wrong move and it will be you, not the enemy, who struggles in water to your stomach while the enemy tries to slaughter you and your own friends push you out even deeper." His hand moved to the area of the forest, drawing lines over the paper with his fingertips. "The forest is a good place for infantry to move and ambush – this accounts for both the enemy and you. But horses cannot travel here or keep the necessary silence to hold an element of surprise, and the tactic of my own soldiers do not work in combat within the vegetation. If we attack people on the road it is possible to start from the forest, but otherwise no, the formation won't work. The trees scatters us, but with time I'll be able to teach the new people how to fight despite those odds - it's an old specialty I've laid behind for a while."

Once more his eyes fell upon the Constable before his hands left the paper. "In short, unless you are ready to take unnecessary risks I cannot help you. Mountains would be a different matter, but even so your army is not made for movement in troublesome areas – if wars were fought there my men would make that a specialty, but the only time the forest and mountains help you is if you don't have any horses or are greatly outnumbered. You experience neither, so if you want anything to be easier or better, train your men and keep to open terrain."

Then he glared towards the French nation, his face still untouched by true emotion. "That is all I have to say, my lord."

Around him people were exchanging glances, shaking their heads or nodding. Francis simply smiled at him. "Thank you, Vash," he uttered, coming closer. At first the Swiss thought it was to see the map a little more closely, then the hand reached to touch his healthy shoulder. "I cannot explain how much I appreciate it."

The moment the hand met his clothes his whole mind flinched, everything momentarily flickering as his heart moved up towards his throat, beating more rapidly. He barely understood what happened other than fear, barely saw his healthy hand grip and twist the assaulting one of the Frenchman. Even if he had simply dared to lay a friendly hand on his shoulder. Barely did he notice the others threaten him with knives and swords as France yelped, falling to one knee in pain.

"Don't underestimate me," the Swiss growled even before he properly managed to think again, getting his mind out of a panicking emptiness. Still he clenched the man's arm and twisted it to hold him in place. Still the men were standing ready with their weapons, afraid for the health of their nation.

As France looked up at him he would have been scared for his life if he hadn't been so sure he couldn't die that easily. A little bit of horror clenched his heart as he looked up at the Swiss for the first time in his life, and he knew this child, this person not even a man, did not play around. Then he blinked, finally letting his eyes fall. "Apologies," he said, hoping to calm the younger nation with words. They needed him. "It was not my intention."

Within Switzerland was still fighting with panic and anxiety about the control of his mind. Outwardly he looked cold and secure, not fazed by the amount of weapons point at him even if he simply didn't have any excess energy to realize he was being threatened. "Yet you still did it," he managed to say, acting like nothing was wrong. He didn't note the worry in the humans' eyes as they stood ready to kill him in attempt to protect their own nation.

France moved his gaze upwards, not showing how scared he actually was because he knew it would make the humans act unwanted. Still he made sure to stay slightly humble, hoping it would make the Swiss calm down. "I did," he agreed, even if he believed he had just attempted to be friendly with him. "But it won't repeat itself, I promise."

Finally Switzerland let him go, his other hand not moving enough. Obviously something bad had happened. The moment he could France stood up again, once more becoming the taller of the two. "Don't underestimate me," the Swiss repeated, then added, "or I won't come back here. If you dare insult my people, my country or me I will leave and never help you to your victories. If I get the feeling you are planning on invading me I will call back my men and you will be without them and they wait within my borders." The Frenchmen were still standing ready while they kept their weapons up, just like France believing his intentions.

"I do not work for people who dare to underestimate me… my lords." His eyes moved while France soundlessly ordered them to stand back and lower their blades. "And so, I do not work for the Habsburgs in that cursed country Spain." Even if his men did. But they did what brought most in their pockets, and for that he couldn't hate them. As long as they continued coming home to his mountains, he couldn't hate them.

"I did what you asked of me," he then continued, looking up at the French nation while knowing he would have attempted to kill him, had his other shoulder not been seriously injured. That would have caused trouble, as he would have been stopped and harmed and most likely lost his employer, one way or the other. "So can I leave, my lord?" As all the times before he disregarded most of their titles, and the humans were beginning to wonder whether it was of ignorance or actual disrespect.

"You can," France said, rubbing his hand painfully after the hard grip.

"Thank you, my lord," he finished before moving out, leaving the tent still without showing any real emotion. And despite the cruel treatment, the softer side of France couldn't help but stare after him, wondering where the temperamental child had went. For even if the child had rarely smiled, smiles you had still seen, and sometimes even a laughter in the presence of the Austrian. But that child… It wasn't to be seen in this cold being so close to be a man.

A part of the Frenchman knew something was wrong, horribly wrong, with the man. Yet he had no chance of knowing what. Instead of getting angry he decided… if he could just do it a little bit… to protect the young man. A part of him felt he had to and he tried to rub the blood back into the tips of the fingers which had formerly been subjected to the Swiss' hard treatment.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I would like for you to take into account that the story is centered on aph Switzerland as a person, not as a country. That he doesn't flourish doesn't mean his country is in trouble. Also this is mainly personal headcanons - if you don't agree, keep a kind tone if you want to discuss it or keep silent. I won't respond to criticism that holds no other purpose than insulting. Other than that:

Enjoy in joy!


	2. Tolling Bells - 1867-1868

Another fic in the line, this one taking place in the late 1867, beginning 1868. About 300 years have passed since last fic, meaning a lot of things have changed. Like the other, it is based on my headcanons, not necessarily how you see it.

Warnings: It is extremely one-sided, and there are much elitism and a slight bit of racism white person against white coming from the feudalism and thought of the nobility.

* * *

Tolling Bells

* * *

"So, who are we inviting?" the female nation asked.

She brooded over the parchment while he wrote, the pen stopping for a moment so he could look up at her. As he found her eyes she was still reading the letter, a vague smile on her face.

"So, I'm guessing Arthur is one of them. Your English seems awfully good. I don't think I can write it that well."

It took everything for him not to roll his eyes at her, and he fixed his glasses on his nose and went back to writing, turning away from her.

"But you are using his human name. I find that odd. But really, who are the rest of our dear guests?"

"Your language is awfully unsophisticated for a lady," he commented, finishing the letter and putting it to the side to let the ink dry. She simply laughed, and he flinched slightly when a snort destroyed the clarity of the fine tones. The woman could have such a beautiful voice, such a beautiful laugh, but she chose to make it rough like a man rather than float like a woman.

Even so, when she sat down she showed some of the manners her years in his service at least had given her. "I will never be a proper lady, Mr. Austria, and you know it. But for you I will do my best when we are in important company." The way she smiled at him, teeth showing and honesty radiating, was nearly enough to throw him off. "Now, answer my God damn question before I fall asleep from boredom – who are we inviting?"

"Please, Elizaveta, watch your language." She gave a groan as he once more made her wait for the answer. And then it finally came. "I thought… all the greater powers of Europe. Even with the tensions going on it would be insulting not to invite everyone, don't you think?" Her eyebrows rose at his incredible politeness – but of course, it were simple politics. But one thing bothered her…

"Even Prussia? You wouldn't care about offending him – besides, he deserves getting offended at times."

"Yes, even Prussia… even though I agree with you. But I have invited him solely due to the fact that I want to take a look at that new, little child he is hiding… Germany, I have heard rumors call him. The new Germania, some say, the collection of the German states combined rather than apart. Otherwise I would have let that barbarian sulk in his own home, knowing the rest of us were at a party."

He sniffed, making the woman smile as he found another piece of parchment and started scribbling anew. The question of this 'Germany' had long been on his mind and weighed his chest, but whenever he demanded to see the child and get to know the child, whenever he claimed he had just as much right of the German States as the Prussian had – if not more – the Prussian simply stuck his tongue out at him. He acted as though this new country was his by right, even though Austria was far more influential than that silly, childish warmonger. Even after Prague he wanted the child for his own, hoping to teach it manners even after Prussia's certain destruction of him.

"I have already made the letters for him and the child, even if I do not even know of this Germany's human name. France and Spain as well, and Denmark, Sweden and Russia, and you saw the letter to Britain. I have made a list on the table of who I'm missing." He gestured for it and she reached out, taking it and looking it over.

After a moment she gave a noisy snort of disdain, looking up at him. "The Ottoman Empire? Are you serious? He is our-"

"I know. You do not have to say it. But not inviting him is insulting him, and as many troubles as he has given us through time we are not interested in angering him. He is getting old, besides. If we are able to get close to him it might be easier to get his subject states after we get power over this new Germany."

The female nation simply looked at him. Even if he was so physically weak that she had been forced to save him a few times it was no surprise to her why he had kept influential in Europe ever since his leaders ascended the throne as Holy Roman Emperors. He knew how to navigate the political and diplomatic scene, something most other nation lacked – herself included. Every marriage he had made, every move he had taken, was a part of a plan for expanding his power.

"And who is this 'Schwe' that you have crossed out?" she further asked, making him look up for a moment before again going back to the letter.

"It's Sweden," he confidently said. "I realized too late that I already made the letter for him."

Nodding slowly her eyes fell over the list again, beginning to notice who were missing rather than who were present. "Is Belgium not considered a great power?" she asked.

"No. She is newly independent and probably ends under a new ruler in time, or goes back to her brother. Subject territories usually get surprised how complicated it is to take care of themselves."

"What about the Italians? Is it the same?"

"The Italians are _not_ invited in my home." The usually so easily managed idiots had been making noise ever since the problems with Napoleon planted ideas. At least he would give the stupid Frenchman the blame. He could still remember when Veneziano did everything he was told. Now he listened to his big brother instead, acting like them 'being together' was the most important thing in the world.

The female nation looked at him with slight surprise at his harsh tone, but quickly she hid it by looking down again. "They are simple subjects," the man continued, heat in his voice. It was close to a growl. The aristocrat nearly voiced real emotions at this little moment. "And they should act as such. Any nation has their right place, and they should stay there."

"So my elevation from subject to ruler is wrong in your eyes?" His words angered her so suddenly, making her stand up. "Or is it just a masquerade without real influence? Am I still beneath you in your eyes?! Will I still be scrubbing your plates and making your food?!"

As fast as he had been angered, he relaxed again, looking at her calmly through his glasses. "No, Elizaveta. It's rather the opposite. In my eyes you have never been a true subject country, even if both your gender and status work against you. Had you honestly not wanted to be my subject you would have left long ago." He couldn't help but think of the revolution in the 40's, but at least she had let that go. "I am simply honored that you have decided to stay for this long. Long enough for us to get together. With your strength and my diplomacy we would be unstoppable in this world."

Anger was still in her eyes, but she managed to sit down. A part of her was honestly flattered by his words, another had yet not forgiven what he had formerly said. And had it not been for the fact that she knew he never complimented people without meaning it she would have marched out on him, angered by his invalidation of her. Now, knowing he was simply honest with her, she stayed, deciding not to forget.

He simply let it pass, though, sitting as though he had never said it. "Do you have anyone else you would want to come, or any other comments?" The violet eyes diverted to her to pick up her answer, and she gave a single, stiff shake of the head, unwilling to do much more. To this he nodded. "Good. I expect a few not to come. Denmark is one, as it is not too long ago that I unfortunately helped Prussia steal away some of his lands without getting much in return. Another is Sweden. Had I invited solely humans I would likely have gotten a response for him, but the nation is not the most social individual."

Once more she nodded, knowing he spoke true and wondering what else she had to do in here. She was still annoyed with him. He put away the next letter, addressed for the Netherlands. Her eyes looked at it for a moment, trying to remember who exactly the nation was hiding behind the name 'Jan'. When it hit her she raised her eyebrows, looking at him. "Spain won't be happy about that. I am quite sure you know that. Those two have never forgiven each other."

"I do hope that it would be an informal, more personal occasion. I want us to meet man to man, not country to country. This is also the reason I use our real names rather than our country titles." For some reason it got her to calm down fully from her anger. The thought of acting like real humans for once… being free, even for just an evening… "It is for our wedding, after all. I want it to be good and peaceful, even if those terms usually do not go well with people like us."

Her warm smile baffled him a little when he looked up at her, and she simply stood up before he could ask her why. "Where did you put Lilli?" she questioned, as always noticing the sudden softening in his usually stern eyes when you spoke of his daughter. Liechtenstein.

"Last time I checked she was in the garden, reading fairy-tales." Compared to before his voice was soft. Like he wanted to stroke her by the hair and read for her, or play music for her. "It seems she has found a very popular author. I think he was from Denmark, but I am uncertain."

"Oh." The woman gave a nod, still smiling softly. She couldn't even be surprised. "I'll go check on her, maybe get her to take a walk with me. If you don't have anything more to say I will leave now."

He was just about to let her dismiss herself when he realized he had forgotten to say something. His gaze met hers to catch her attention. "One last thing – I was thinking we might allow them to be accompanied by one subject country and a small delegation of four humans to ensure them feeling comfortable, and now that we will be ruling together I thought I might ask how you thought of this?"

She just smiled and nodded. "I think that is a good idea." Then she went for the door, letting her hand affectionately brush his shoulder as she moved by. It caused his eyes to go away from the paper and find her, lingering on her as she closed the door.

He continued writing letters until everyone was done, then looked outside at the setting sun. It had been on his mind even before his soon-to-be-wife had come by, but the he had decided to focus on the 'real' invitations first. And they were now done. Meaning it was time to decide… His eyes moved over the list, settling on the crossed out 'Schwe'.

Part of him knew he should ask her what she thought. It was a great exception to his rule of only inviting ruling countries. But on the other hand… he wasn't a subject country either… That stupid, annoying peasant didn't really fit into the usual categories… No, he shouldn't think of him like that, not when wondering if that man should be invited to his wedding.

Mentally insulting a wedding guest you were not obliged to invite yet still wanted to invite was not a good way to start. It had been so many years since they had actually spoken… They had seen each other many times, of course, but that was standing on either side of the battlefield. Not the ideal way of contacting a person…

"It… It can't hurt," he finally mumbled, his pen shaking the slightest bit as he started writing. Even so, the writing flawlessly swung over the paper, gracefully forming the beginning of his very last wedding invitation, carefully spelling out the name _Vash Zwingli_.

* * *

"V-Vash Zwingli? E-excuse me… Excuse me! Do you know anyone by the name Vash Zwingli?"

The poor man's eyes moved back and forth as he tried to establish contact with the Swiss people walking past him from on top of the horse. The old streets of Bern folded out around him as the horse was turned around, trying hard to follow the human's orders.

"Excuse me, Sir, do you know a man by the name Vash Zwingli?" he repeated to an elderly man not in as much of a hurry, desperation growing on his face. He had been to the population register and had found them unwilling to help at the sound of that name. He could not decide if it was because there were no such person in the country – Vash was indeed an odd name – or if the person was too important for an Austrian messenger to meet.

The man stopped, looked up at him on the high horse, and shook his head. Then he spoke in one of those dreadful dialects, speaking in a way he couldn't understand, before pointing back towards the building he had left without answers. Going back to ask the register? People here were so hard to understand, even when you spoke German to them, and with an annoyed sigh he turned around. The younger Swiss spoke German back at him, but their accents were awful like they'd never spoken it before.

Where were the civilized people in this place?!

He turned the horse around, trying to figure out what to say to Graf Roderich when he got back with the letter still intact and untouched. But whoever this man was didn't show himself a lot. Even so the human made sure to contact anyone who stopped too close to him, asking for this person he barely believed existed. Vash really was a truly awful name. Was it some form of invention from the more French part of the country? Should he try going even further west?

His doubts and thoughts continued even as he got on to the smaller road outside town, wondering if he should use the railways to go back to Austria or if he should try another town. "Hello, do you know a Vash Zwingli?" No one in Austria had known exactly where to find him. He'd been told to try Bern, for there many politicians and officials were… did that mean this man was an official? "Has a Vash Zwingli crossed your path lately?" Did people not usually know of officials? And they always knew of politicians. Yet none spoke of this man. Was he out to chase a ghost? "Excuse me, do you know where I can find a Vash Zwingli?"

"Vash Zwingli?" a man asked with an accent of High German even more different than any of the former Swiss people he had spoken to. It sounded… it sounded like the accent came from all places at once, both within and without this nation, yet had it very own ring to it. There was a soft French and Italian tone, yet just as tough as the German pronunciation needed to be. "Who asks?"

He hadn't looked at the man he spoke to, no longer hoping to find any luck, and he found a young man watching him with rough features, deep, hard green eyes and messy, blond hair. Though he was barely a man. Rather some 17 or 18 years, if you were gracious. He wasn't very tall, nor did he look like much other than a herding lad, walking beside an old working horse dragging a cart of furniture with a herd of goats bound behind it.

"A messenger of the Austrian Empire." The strangers face hardened, the hard green eyes suddenly growing cold. The human made sure to make his voice authoritarian, daring the other to deny him the necessary information. "Where can I find Vash Zwingli?"

"You stand right in front of him." The voice was uncaring before. Now it was frozen. "What is this message you carry?"

For a moment the human stared. Then he shook his head, decided he didn't believe. "Do not attempt to fool me. If you are him I am looking for, I need proof from you. I have been looking for Zwingli all day and no one have been able to say a word – meeting him on the road by mistake is impossible."

"Well, unfortunately for me it is true. Just tell me what the aristocratic idiot to Roderich wants to inform me after these many years of silence." Once more he stared at the Swiss, the nation simply looking back with his hard eyes. The human was… baffled that he dared speaking of a nobleman in such a manner. "Yes, I know who sent you. So tell me what he wants."

"Oh, um…" Not ready to actually find the man nor meet such aggression from him the human turned to the pocket of his bag and found a letter. It was sealed with the seal of the Austrian Empire, impossible to mistake as the Swiss took it. "Do you need me to read it for you?"

"I _can_ read," Switzerland growled, ripping it out of his hands and immediately breaking the seal to fold it open. His eyes scanned over the parchment, realizing that no, he couldn't actually read it properly. The curves were too big and lines too cringing, the letters made with too much unnecessary finesse. Cursed aristocrat.

With an annoyed sigh he leant back against the working horse pulling his wagon, the old, graying animal turning its head to sniff at him at the sudden contact. Spelling out each word on the paper he translated every full word from High German to French since he was unable to decide what form of Swiss German he should use in the moment. And the more he translated, the colder his eyes got and the darker his expression went.

A wedding? He was invited to _that man_'s political marriage with _another country_?! In a classy environment of prissy, _Austrian_ aristocrats? Just how stupid were they?

And then, of all the countries Austria could choose to marry… of all the weddings that man had participated in… he chose to invite him to the wedding with _her_.

His gaze moved back to the messenger, the poor human shifting uncomfortably under the nation's gaze. There was no doubt what the answer would be, and it wouldn't be good.

"No."

And it was the human's responsibility to give that information to his superiors.

"Tell Roderich he can take this invitation, roll it in tar, set it on fire and stick it up his ass."

The blond wasn't amused. And he wasn't interested. In general, he was just offended. How… how could that man dare to personally invite him to a wedding. His wedding. With _that_ woman. That was just… just…

"I-I don't think-" the human stammered, but Vash just forced the letter back into his hands.

"Tell him. In exactly those words. And get out of my country. I don't have time for this – I'm in the middle of moving."

Then he turned around, getting the horse to move again and walking with heavy, stomping footsteps towards the city. The goats gave the man a last look, giving him the feeling that the animals were mocking him for his failure before they turned around and continued walking behind the cart, eager to follow their owner.

* * *

Everyone was lined up neatly in the seats of the St. Stephen's Cathedral, far too big compared to the amount of people waiting within. It was hauntingly beautiful and vast. Of those inside, half were aristocrats of the Austrian Empire, which had been officially Austria-Hungary for a few months now even if their personal wedding had yet to be settled. The other half were foreigners, people from all over Europe in their finest clothes.

As expected, Denmark didn't show up. Unexpectedly, Sweden had, and he had been glowering at Russia from the moment he had arrived with Norway standing closely to his side, not uttering a single word to anyone. The Russian had his tsar and three nobles with him, surpassing most the other guests in the finery of their clothes. The subject he had chosen to take with him proved to be his older sister, who was staring and turning around with wide eyes at everything she saw.

Britain had been chosen to sit on the second row, all the way to the right on the pews, with his own delegation of beautifully clothed people, while France was placed further back, on the left in the newest line of fashion his country had come up with. The situation was the same concerning Spain and the Netherlands, their position strategically perfect, and it continued to be so all around, keeping risks of conflict well away from one another.

One who stood out the greatest was the Ottoman Empire, wearing his luxurious Islamic clothing and the famed, white mask while in the house of God. The man himself just took it relaxed, though, having arrived with only two humans and no subject countries and not caring one bit about the confused human's bafflement that 'a man like he' dared to show his presence in a church. In actuality he was the nation smiling the most, ready to spend time having fun with his fellow nations.

By far he was the oldest of the people in the room, and as such he knew better than to stir unnecessary fights – unless it concerned the stupid Greek daring to claim independence after he had protected and taken care of him for centuries. Not to mention that around his eyes were deep lines of exhaustion hidden by his mask, marking the waning strength of the great empire. He had been a great, important power for over 550 years, a feat none of the other could claim, but the end of an empire usually meant the death of a nation.

Turkey was old enough to remember Rome and how that man had gone mad many times, how he finally lost it and how he then split apart in his death into two separate empires that would simply fall later on. He had memories of both Heracles' and Gupta's mothers and how they fell into decline as well, with nothing more waiting for them. He had known the Golden Horde well and he knew Mongolia wasn't the same as him just be looking at the Asian's eyes.

Though proud of his own ability to stay big and strong for so long, he knew what was coming and expected it to be deadly for him. Even so, with beginning sleepless nights, he was ready to have fun with his fellows as people, not knowing if this would be his last time meeting them as friends.

So he didn't care that people, humans who probably didn't know the significance of half the foreigners invited here, were staring. He just respectfully bowed his head to the Prophet, Jesus, as his pictures decorated the walls, and sat down on his assigned seat, making sure not to look at the smiling Russia always trying to get in his way and take over his territories. The only one in the room he truly didn't want anything to do with – for more reasons than he dared to inform the others.

And getting as much attention from the nations as the Ottoman Empire got from the humans were Prussia, sitting on the first pews but furthest away from the aisle. Or rather it was the man beside him, the blond none had really met before. They had expected a child of about five or six, maybe seven physical years. What was presented for them looked like a grown man with broad shoulders and a built like his brother except for his face, which was still childish enough to determine him as fourteen or so years. This person, called Ludwig… was not what anyone had expected. He was sitting, silent and stiff, beside his brother who had been around yelling at and greeting everyone until now.

They expected a six year old copy of the Teutonic knights. What they got was a serious a young man and a soldier, they couldn't doubt that. And he seemed stronger than any one of them wished.

But the true center of attention stood at the altar, silently waiting for his coming wife while looking over the crowd. Beside him stood the little sparkle of his empire, the little Liechtenstein waiting proper as a young girl about the age of twelve should. He had made sure to greet everyone with a nod for now and that a servant assigned them to their places. The front row on the foreigners side was empty on Ludwig's other side, like a gaping hole announcing the absence of someone.

Even with the messenger informing him that the Swiss would not be coming, stammering that the other nation had seemed quite upset but refusing to elaborate, Austria had hoped the man hadn't changed too much. That he was still able to become furious and start yelling in one moment only to swallow his words and actually do it when he calmed. The child Roderich had known did that all the time, screamed and fought not to do something only to sit down quietly when time came.

Unfortunately, Austria had seen no sign of him. Part of him hoped Switzerland would still be there, that the closed door would not stop him, that he was just hiding to show his annoyance with the Austrian. Another part knew Vash, his old friend, didn't want to know him anymore. It had been a small hope, a stupid wish to mend their bond. Over five hundred years had passed since they broke apart – closer to the six hundred. Would they never be able to talk again, if that amount of time couldn't calm that _lowly_- … that man down?

Then all eyes turned and Austria realized his soon-to-be wife was arriving. He redirected his focus, finding her as she came down the aisle with Ferenc Deák leading her towards him, a satisfied smile on the human's face. And it was not without reason. Just giving her one look, meeting her again in her wedding dress, he sucked in a breath.

A breath so big his corset stopped his lungs from expanding any further.

She was stunning. Her dress was made of white cream silk, flowing into a big skirt embroidered with silvery pearls in complicated patterns and layered fabric upon fabric to curve around her feet. Her waist was slimmed by a corset, her hair done up high with her natural curls slipping over her ears, complimenting the shape of her face and the smile glowing upon it.

It was as though she was really happy. Like their marriage meant something. The closer she got, the more his heart fluttered, and he didn't realize that he reached out his hand, asking for her to take it – before she elegantly did, looking like a lady as she got over to him. She made it feel like she wanted _him_, his person, instead of the power lying behind him. Of course his power had become shaky, but together they could fix that.

And he found out he felt the same. He didn't want her for the strength she had, the stability she could give, but for the person behind the country, for that smile on her face…

It was now, as he stood with her here, that he realized he actually _did_ loved her.

Then, after she had done her performance as a proper lady with a beautiful gait and stood ready with him to get married, she broke the illusion by opening her mouth. "So you're ready to get on with it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, and finally a smile pushed through his façade.

He gave a nod and they turned towards the altar. For the rest of the city of Vienna the bells foretold that a new marriage had been established in this world.

* * *

The evening party was moved from the cathedral to Schönbrunn Palace to enjoy the beautiful, rich interior and the giant rooms. There were music – there could not be a party without music – and the dancing had started immediately after the small buffet in the middle of the day. Austria and Hungary were the first upon the floor, the female smiling more than the code demanded and forcing her new husband to follow her.

The evening went on, speaking to and getting congratulated while everyone kept civil. The tensions you could always feel when the nations came together to sign contracts or find agreements after or during wars had evaporated to only small sparks between the fiercest enemies. Attempting to lighten the mood and get people to embrace his own cultural heritage the Ottoman empire had taken the female human from his home and attempted to mix a dance from his culture with the classical tunes from the musicians.

It caused a great scene where people – mainly humans of the Austrian nobility – curled their noses at this change in classical customs, even if some saw it as a challenge. The general mood got lighter, though, when France took it upon himself to save the Ottoman from rejection and ridicule by attempting to copy the odd dance, getting close to the other empire to recognize the steps exact.

The French nation soon laughed when he couldn't get it right and when the music confused him compared to the rhythm of the dance, and the usually so elegant man lost his balance. A gasp went through the room as all attention had turned to him, but somehow the Turkish man had managed to save him in the last second by slipping a hand under his shoulder. "Woops," the Frenchman said as he regained his footing, before laughing, and soon the whole mood changed when the rest of the room laughed with him.

This all eased the tension even more when other people followed the French nation's example, even if few people among them certainly didn't approve of the change of direction. It left only few standing on the side, Austria among them as his dear new wife got caught by his cursed enemy and cousin, Prussia, in what would soon be a battle of stepping on each other's feet. Others were Russia and England, the latter standing cross-armed as he stared at the dancing Frenchman.

Another keeping from the dance floor was Germany, standing in the corner and talking with Liechtenstein. This ended as the main focus for the Austrian's attention, since he needed to speak to the young soon-to-be nation without the cursed Prussian to distract them. With fast steps he moved closer, positioning himself beside his darling daughter. "Hello… Ludwig was the name?" the Austrian questioned in German.

The blond kid had already turned his attention to him when he approached. Now he just gave a bow of his head in greeting, the younger's face oddly stiff. "Hello, and thank you for inviting me. My name is Ludwig, yes," he said in German as well, straightening again and looking into the older nation's eyes. "I have heard a lot about you, Roderich."

There came a slightly inappropriate grimace from the brunet. "I hope it is not from Gilbert, or I cannot promise you the claims are valid." Beside them Liechtenstein covered her mouth to hide her laughter. The blond nation just gave a shrug, and the smallest hint of a smile came over his face. One of the few warm expressions this overly serious child presented.

"Most of it is from my brother, but I also have a lot from Lily." The smile broadened even more, and his face got a little red as he watched the girl. Austria and Germany were nearly of height, the blond just centimeters smaller, but compared to Liechtenstein he had already taken lengths. "On the other hand, the descriptions I have gotten from my brother on the others were that 'Francis is nice when he isn't stupid', 'Arthur is a stiff moron who can't have fun' and 'Ivan is a psycho who deserves to die', so I have thought it best to form my own opinions."

Trying to keep a proper lady but just being a girl of 12, despite her age surpassing Germany's with a few hundreds, the giggling got louder. Liechtenstein's face had begun to redden. She wasn't acting like she should, and she did so right beside her father. A father who had spent all his life telling her to sit straight, eat right, sing great and read good literature. But though looking strict she knew he would never hit her, as she also knew he would do anything to make her happy.

These words and reflections from the blond lightened Austria's mood a lot, though. It seemed there was hope for this new member of their Germanic family, and Austria could nearly see their grandfather crack a smile at the sight of that obvious strength, strong logic and clear focus. Unlike the rest of them this man actually seemed a man Germania would be proud of. "Oh, I hope my daughter hasn't said too many bad things about me." His hand slipped onto her shoulder, and they both looked towards each other. Making a deep eye contact and both allowing a smile, just for the moment he allowed himself to touch her.

Germany just shook his head, not knowing how precious the moment in front of him was. "No, Lily has only spoken of you kindly. A great contrast to my brother, but I will not mention exactly what he has said."

The Austrian simply waved it off, knowing that indeed he wasn't interested in hearing his cousin's words. It was occurring to him that this person in front of him was already too strong and too clever to be overpowered and controlled. His new cousin would only work with the people he wished to work with himself, and unfortunately it seemed Prussia was among those people. It was of utmost importance that he connected with this man as soon as he could, before Prussia actually _did_ destroy what he thought of him.

But for them to talk about it, it was also important for them to be alone. Even if he knew his daughter would never betray him, it was not for a lady to hear complicated things like alliances and agreements, and his eyes fell upon her, soft as velvet. "I think it would be best if you moved out for a dance, Lily." She looked up at him, then realized and smiled with a nod. Clever, she was, his little girl. Curtsying elegantly she turned around, her dress brushing over her fine, pale legs as she hurriedly walked away.

And it seemed the German was clever as well. He had caught up the moment she had, and his face was now wary of what the other man would ask of him. "What do you wish to speak of?" Somehow his voice had grown colder and Austria fixed the cravat around his neck, then shook his head.

"Gilbert warned you of this, didn't he? That I would speak to you." As stupid as he was, Prussia had learned a thing or two of his long lost leader, the so called 'Old Fritz'. The young blond gave him a long, assessing look, a sudden, slight uncertainty in the clear, blue eyes. Then there was a small nod, the younger's mood suddenly dropping despite the cheery sounds around them. And the Austrian nodded back, attempting to create a peaceful air. "I'm not angry. I'm simply interested in knowing whether or not I can expect your support in case of trouble."

Still looking stiffer than before, the young man was silent for another moment, looking over the Austrian with surprising sharpness. The few years the blond had behind him didn't show, and after getting scrutinized for nearly two minutes Austria was ready to accept that he wouldn't get the answer he had hoped for. Then Germany stuck out his hand, looking him in the eyes, and without caution or hesitation Austria caught it, tying the young man to his word.

"You, Graf Roderich, are of my family," the German curtly spoke. "As long as it is not against my brother, I will stay at your side."

The smallest of smiles reached Austria's lips and he made a small bow, knowing he had just secured an agreement with what would soon be one of the strongest countries among them. "I am pleased, young Ludwig."

The handshake was stopped abruptly, both withdrawing their hands when hurried footsteps got closer. Both were about to look who dared get closer when a hand swung around each of their shoulders. "What is my family planning without me?!" a hoarse voice yelled. A sharp whiff of alcohol reached Austria's nostrils, making him sniff a bit.

"We were simply talking, _Gilbert_," the Austrian answered, feeling a cold annoyance towards his _dear_, war-lusting cousin. The man always caused trouble, and he did it purposefully, intending all the conflict he created. Had it not been an informal, festive gathering, and had it not been practically a declaration of war to not invite him, Austria would have left him out of it.

The albino snorted, hitting him in the back like old war mates while he let go of his little brother. And though it might be true that they had seen war together it was rarely friendly. "You can talk with me, too! The party is boring without me!" He spoke as though he was the main attraction, and it was all Austria could do not to yell at him. The younger German withdrew a little, clearly uncomfortable by the tension emitting from the brunet. Tension either passing the white haired man by or getting deliberately ignored.

To the luck of them all the Austrian didn't get to utter an angry response. Unluckily a greater shadow moved upon them, and both of them turned to find a smiling giant. "Privyet," the newcomer announced, the smile on his face friendly and his eyes surprisingly soft. For the most part the nations knew Russia as a kind friend and deadly enemy, even if he lacked important understanding of personal space. "Is it possible for me to speak to you in alone?"

"Who of us?" the Prussian questioned, not at all trusting the giant nation. Russia was just one of many whom he had bad blood between.

The bigger man just smiled, as always. It wasn't a sick smile, but it gave you a feeling that he didn't know exactly when or how to stop. "Both of you. So the little Ludwig… that is your name, right?" The violet eyes darted over to youngest, studying him as all of them had done. His smile fell momentarily as though he was thoughtful, but it never disappeared. The child simply nodded, doing as he had been trained to and keeping calm. "The little Ludwig," the big man repeated, picking up where he stopped before, "must go out for a dance, da?"

It was clear Prussia wasn't feeling willing to comply, but not wanting to cause a scene – even if he had nearly caused one himself just a moment before – Austria placed a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder. "Why don't you go out and find my daughter? I'm sure she would love to dance with you, and that you would have a lot to talk about."

Giving his big brother a last look, Ludwig gave a small bow to all of them before slipping away, going for Liechtenstein just as he had been offered. Then the three of them turned to one another, the two German nations watching the Russian questioningly. "First of all I come here to apologize on behalf of my beloved Tsarina Maria for her absence, but she is in the last stages of pregnancy and my great Tsar Alexander deemed it unwise for her to come along." The big man gave a bow, still with that smile, and Austria was just about to tell him the apology was accepted when Prussia proved his usual lack of manners.

"You didn't have to keep me here if that was all you wanted," he complained, making the Russian look at him with a slightly disapproving frown above the smiling lips.

Then he chuckled, just slightly. Like he was presented some odd form of German humor he didn't honestly understand, and yet he laughed so he didn't wish to come off as rude. "Nyet, of course not. I came to ask you this, da! Have either of you caught Feliks yet?" Poland. The two Germans shared a look, then shook their heads. The escape of that troublesome nation has been an embarrassing loss for all three. "Eh, unfortunate. Toris has proven to be such a kind and comfortable servant, and I would have brought him along to show you since you helped me take him, but as long as Feliks is out there I won't let him get out of Russia.

_We can't have him get ideas, da?_"

A slight cool swept over the two Germans as the man momentarily summoned a darker atmosphere with a far lighter tone of voice. Over the years they've all seen the change of Russia, how he slowly seemed to degenerate as his lands grew bigger, but none wished to do anything. Few knew him personally and even fewer liked him, so few had any interest in caring for him. "I sincerely apologize, but I haven't heard of him since we partitioned his lands," the Austrian managed to properly answer after collecting himself.

The Prussian nation couldn't help but snort. "The weakling probably died, ja? He has no land left, and so he died! That's why we haven't found him. His body rotted away! Countries _can't live without land_." There was a deep contempt in his voice. A great anger. But Poland was the nation who had kept the geographical Preussen under control for centuries, keeping it even after Prussia had proclaimed the land to be his.

At that Austria's nose wrinkled disgustedly while Russia simply smiled on, batting his eyes joyfully. "Then I'll take little Toris along next time." The albino nation seemed to tune them out, instead watching Elizaveta as she turned down a dance with Francis. The French nation was currently following her around insulted while she smirked and Arthur sniggered on the side. "I hope you will be holding balls similar to these again, little Roderich, that we get invited to, da~."

This was at least something Prussia heard, and he started laughing loud enough for people in the ballroom to stop for a second and roll their eyes. Hopeless, unmannered fighting nation. How the host and he could be cousins was a wonder. "Who would you then be married to at that party, Roddy?"

An irritated sniff entered Austria's nostrils while the Russian curiously tilted his head to the side, watching their interaction. "What is that for a thing to say? I was happily married just today."

"And what's that? Your fifth happy marriage? Sixth? Tenth?" The Prussian was still laughing while Roderich's lips grew as thin as his patience. Still a pair of violet eyes shifted between the two.

"The past is of no concern for the present, Gilbert, and if you keep talking like this I'll have to ask you to-"

"To what? Put my tongue between your beautiful, well-rounded, usually kicked cheeks? As if!"

Ivan sniggered. Roderich, on the other hand, widened his eyes and straightened his back, his hands curling into fists. "Watch your language under my roof, you uncultured, barbaric-"

"E-excuse me…?"

All three turned, Roderich's eyes shooting lightening while Gilbert stuck out formerly mentioned tongue at him. The new presence proved to be a simple human female, a servant of the Austrian court, who was awfully intimidated by the three majestic males. "Ja?" Roderich harshly said.

"A-a man has arrived, Graf Edelstein… H-he said he was a-a guest, th-that he was invited, b-but we aren't certain. A-and he hasn't said his name, saying it's none of our concern…" An annoyed frown formed on the Austrian's face while Gilbert moved closer, curious. Behind them Ivan sent the girl a friendly smile in an attempt to comfort her, making her shivering even worse.

"A man?" Who hadn't said his name? "Does he have an invitation?"

Moving closer to the two German nations and shifting away from the Russian, the human tried to regain her ability to speak. "J-ja, a-a man. A-and he doesn't hold, b-but… He said he sent it back when he received it... die Kämmerer thought it best t-to ask you… He doesn't… he doesn't _look_ like he's invited."

For another moment Roderich stood with that annoyed and confused frown, clearly unable to figure out who of the invited were missing in the room. Then shock spread like a bucket of ice water, his mouth opening agape. "H-how does he look?" he managed to breathe, eyes wide and hands unclenched again. W-was… was it true?

"He…" All three people around him were incapable of understanding the sudden change. He went from the usual furious aura he gained from being around Prussia too long to so relieved he looked about to faint. "He's young… and not very tall… blond, a-and his hair is pretty long. And his eyes…" The more she spoke the further his shoulders fell. "They are a vivid green." As she said it his mouth formed exactly those words.

Then he took the first breath since realizing who his newest guest might be, moved past the human and leaving behind the rest of the room, fully unnoticed by any other guest present at his wedding. Only Prussia and Russia were aware that he left, and the Prussian took a long moment to stare after him. Then he slipped through the crowd, ignoring everyone but the bride. "Oi, Lizzy!" he whispered, catching her attention. "Are you expecting any more guests?"

Searchingly her eyes moved over the crowd, looking through the faces. "No, I don't think so," she finally concluded, looking back at him again. "Why?"

"Well, your little new wife just chose to leave. Eh…" Both pairs of eyes shifted back to the door, neither able to decipher what he intended.

* * *

The human servant followed after him to show the way, leading him not to the entrance hall but outside of it, into the yard. "H-he didn't want to come in," the human explained slowly as she opened the door, the Kämmerer waiting there with a displeased look on his face.

But it didn't surpass the cold expression on the newcomer's face. His arms were crossed in the growing darkness, the air getting colder as night took hold of the palace. Everything about him, from eyes to heart to stance and feet, was carved in granite.

"I want to talk to him _alone_." It was a command the humans were not likely to follow. Even so they did upon seeing the nod from their own nation, shuffling inside again while the actual happiness filling Roderich's chest evaporated when presented with the cold air around the physically young man. His stance was bordering to aggressive, matching his stone hard eyes.

The moment no human was near Roderich took the initiative to speak. "Why are we waiting out here, Vash, you must-"

"Don't call me that."

The aggressiveness continued into his voice, his words demanding. Already now it sparked annoyance in the Austrian, not to mention deep disappointment.

"I would like to remind you that we are among… 'normal' people, Mr. Zwingli." He tried to keep the tone sober. Tried to hold etiquette. Tried to be friendly. This… This wasn't what he wanted. It was not what he hoped for, not what he expected when he chose to invite the man. Couldn't they just… _not_ argue?

"I don't know how _normal_ you can call the humans here."

"What is that supposed to- Nein, never mind, it doesn't matter." He stopped himself. There was no reason to encourage the lesser- no, this _other_ man's rage. "Mr. Zwingli, you can come inside if you please. You must be exhausted after your journey." Keep it civil. Keep it civil. Don't lose your cool.

"No, I don't please," the Swiss growled, once more in the aggressive tone which dared you to argue with him. All hopes, in that moment, were lost. It wasn't possible, none of it.

Was there even anything to save?

So instead of being open, kind and welcoming Roderich let false expectations, cruel hopes and idiotic emotions, fall to the floor like the sheets of a failed symphony, and instead of writing a piece with happiness and new beginnings it became an old repetition of an old story. Cold eyes met, all attempts of a peaceful clash failed.

"Your people are rude," the Swiss finished. "I see no reason why I should enter before I get an apology."

"Rude? How can you speak of rude when you greet me in that tone?! Why are you even here if all you plan on doing is insulting me and cause trouble? I won't give you an apology before you tell me you are sorry for acting like a barbaric lowlife."

"Me? Being sorry? Apparently my choice of clothes doesn't fit your servants' liking!"

Taking a moment to realize what the man was actually wearing Austria snorted. Not because it was bad, no, for he was dressed finely… it was simply his normal work outfit, unfitting the current occasion. "Obviously they react like that - your clothes are absolutely unacceptable." The Austrian was aware that statement was unfair. He simply no longer cared. None of it mattered.

The same went the other way. They attempted to provoke each other, and they let themselves be provoked. "I went as far as washing my clothes. You expect me to buy a whole new set of clothes for your stupid wedding? Shit if I'm going to conform to your wishes!" This thing with clothes made him surprisingly heated compared to the fact that it were simply fabrics. "All you do is a waste of money!"

Those words took their toll on the Austrian. Money was not something he wasted, it was something he cherished. All he actually bought was bought with care and thought, none on a whim even if everything was beautiful. It was absolutely necessary, all of it. "I do _not_ waste money! All I do is carefully done, and I make sure to get the most out of my price! Just because I won't let myself be comfortable with linen and similar scratchy fabrics I'm not wasting my money."

"So this is not a waste?!" the smaller nation yelled, gesturing at the enormous building, the music coming from within and the enticing smell of delicious food. "All of this is of absolute need for your pompous ass to flourish?!"

The Austrian's face flushed, his lips growing thin. "Indeed it is," he answered in a calm voice, frozen by rage. "We can't all live in isolated sheds like uncultured savages."

"I am _not_ uncultured! I have my own music! My own buildings and own books! But that," he growled, gesturing for the building again, "is utterly stupid! And that I'm a farmer doesn't make me a savage – I actually know how to do honest labor!"

Both looked enraged, the smaller and more physical of them ready to jump the bigger. Neither of them were too fond of the situation. "I _do_ work, you petty-"

"How often do you sprain your wrist by writing your own name?"

"Ack, uh, excuse me? I'm surprised you can even spell out yours."

"I can do that while making my own food."

"I guess not all of us have the qualifications of leadership."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that I am capable of having people do such dreary tasks for me, but enough of that." The Austrian crossed his arms, forcing down a deep breath to cool himself off. "Why are you even here if all you do is insult me? This brings us nowhere."

A softening actually reached the Swiss man's face before he looked away, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. For the longest moment he stared at the ground, a battle of emotions fought upon his face. Then finally he looked up, his face once more cold, and his arms fell down his sides again. "I came to tell you not to contact me again." It was said with no hesitation, his voice as empty as his face and hard as his eyes. "I don't care what goes on in your life. It is none of my concern, and for you to even consider it to be is an insulting display of megalomania.

We have no reason to talk. You are a queasy noble asshole; I'm a common farmer and a business man. You live in a castle, surrounding yourself with unnecessities while I work my palms rough, and it has been like that for hundreds of years. If you want to marry some random girl," at that Austria opened his mouth to argue, but Switzerland simply lifted his hand, "go ahead, but do it without me. Especially when all you can tell me is that my clothes aren't _fit_ for your company."

Once more Austria attempted to speak, not truly understanding the feeling in his chest. Brick after brick seemed to load upon his heart, weighing it down to put pressure on his stomach. But once more, Switzerland shook his head. "No, don't say anything! I'm not finished!" He seemed to get hotheaded again, his hands curling into fists. "Our paths got divided, and _you_ are the person to thank for that! Now you come here, acting like everything can be forgotten, but I know people like you – _I am one of them!_ None of us do anything without making sure we gain something, and most of us are ready to sacrifice another for it, and there is no way – _no, way_ – that I will allow anyone to step on me!"

His foot hit the ground hard, as he stomped like a ferocious animal. The stones in Austria's stomach made it harder and harder for him to even feel his insides, slowly growing numb against the cold words. "But V-Vash…"

"Non!" The other yelled again, taking a dangerous step forward. "Don't _call me that!_" For another short second he just stood there, staring and panting hard. Then he turned his body away. "If you contact me again, do it to make business with me, not as some personal façade to cover your game. I'm not playing with you." And his face as well, no longer looking at him. "I'm neutral exactly because I _don't_ want to play with you. I'm not a part of your game for power, so don't try to drag me in. If you want to trade I'm ready. But now, I'm leaving."

And he did, the gravel under his feet crunching more and more faintly the further he moved away.

Roderich just stared, unable to even run after him and inform him it was improper to tell people such things at the day of their wedding, unable to go back inside and smile with the façade he had kept until just 20 minutes ago. He could feel their relationship slipping between his fingers. It had died years and years ago, but this very night, in the last light of the sun, they held its funeral.

A part of him wanted to cry. The shock was simply too great for him to do so. This was not what he expected of today. This was not what he had expected of any day. He hadn't hoped for their relationship to become great, but for his wedding to become its funeral was not in his calendar.

* * *

Like a ghost he floated back inside. His humans, his servants, were waiting just behind the door, and with the tiniest bit of anger he dismissed them. Going back towards the ballroom he realized he couldn't go in there before he pulled himself together.

When taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he found out he wasn't able to.

Floating back towards the entrance, empty inside, he heard footsteps from behind, escaping the noise of his party. Turning around, not expecting to care, he met the sight of his darling daughter looking at him with concern.

"D-dad, are you alright?" she whispered, moving over and taking his hands. Hers were so soft, like silk, and warm like summer. Staring into his eyes he knew she saw his pain, as he knew she wished it gone, and for that he had to smile.

"J-ja… mein Liebling. As long as you are here I am always alright." Cupping her face he pulled it closer, kissing her forehead for the longest moment as a single tear finally escaped his eyes. As he moved backwards he dried it away with his sleeve, seeing the growing worry in her orbs. "It is not for you to worry, dear. It is gone already." His arm around her to lead her back inside, going through the doors.

Within many pairs of eyes followed him, but he simply gave them one of his normal, polite smiles to reassure them nothing was wrong. All eyes moved away – all but one pair of greens. Hungary… his wife. He wasn't alone. All wasn't lost. He had his daughter, and he had his dear wife.

* * *

Want to remind you, despite it being a fic about Switzerland, this is mainly Austria's point of view. If you wish for me to write the other side and show Vash' side of this wedding, please do tell and I may write it. But for now...

Enjoy in joy ^^


	3. An Unusual Holiday - 2009-2011

This one is set nearly in current time. I wrote it before the trouble came up between Ukraine and Russia, and it is set somewhere between 2009-2011. There are no warnings and no worries in this one, except for a grumpiness from a certain Swiss man.

* * *

An Unusual Holiday

* * *

Winter's snow floated on the wind, reaching the iced tree tops and slipping in and out of the naked branches on gravity's way to the ground. The homemade shack working as a goat shelter had been filled with hay to keep the warmth, but the three goats seemed not to care and frolicked outside in the cold, bleating at their owner as he stumbled through the slippery layer of thick snow with a bucket of boiling water. It was cold enough for the water in the trough to freeze, and there was no way he would let his goats dehydrate in the low temperatures.

It took just a moment before the animals swarmed the gate, hoping for even the smallest pat on the head as the crystals fell into their white fur, melting from their heat. The smallest smile snuck onto their owner's face, one of the few he ever made as he let the hot water fall on top of the cold ice in the trough, then let the bucket fall to give them his appreciation.

"Jungfrau… Eiger…" He brushed them one at a time before the last chewed onto the end of his sleeve. "No, Mönch, be nice," he demanded, gently pushing the animal away, careful like he never was with human creatures. Then he scratched it between the horns to confirm he wasn't angry while the other two sniffed at the new water in the through. "Remember, all three of you, to go inside if you are cold. There is a lot of food in there, so you should be fine. I'll come for you if the weather gets worse, but they say there won't be a storm."

Three pairs of rectangular pupils stared at him. Then all of them gave a snort and lowered their heads as though saying they understood. He gave the last two another pet before turning to see Liechtenstein come out the back door. "Bruder?" she voiced, her hands clenching together, shivering slightly in the cold. She arrived just moments ago through the front door without his notice, but she had already dropped both jacket and gloves. He was usually inside at this time, but he had been too worried about his animals to leave them be.

"Ja?" he answered, nearly running back to the door and leading her inside again. She shouldn't be freezing now – it wouldn't be good to become sick for Christmas. Especially not when she always loved the holiday… especially not when he did, as well. If you forgot all the spent money and all the unhealthy amounts of food, like they did, it became an excuse to spend time together… a good excuse, too.

An excuse filled with traditions and warmth, filled with old habits and unity in the midst of a dark winter's night. The two of them barely gave each other presents – it weren't the material things that meant anything to the two of them. It was the fact that they could be together.

His arms came around her shoulders to warm her as he got her inside again, the smallest sign of a smile at their many memories of Christmas hidden behind the scarf protecting his nose. "You're here early," he announced, unable to hide the warmth in his voice and at this time of the year barely trying to. At least not with her.

"Yeah…" was her answer, slightly hesitant but not enough so to alarm him. The door closed behind the both of them and he let go of her to remove his extra layers of clothing. "How far are you with everything? I saw the stack of wood. It has grown since yesterday, so I guess you're ready, right?"

He gave a curt nod as the scarf was wrapped from his face. "Ja. I was actually wondering if we should get the tree tomorrow instead of the 24th, like we usually have done… it is only one day early, so it is not too different, right?" It was nearly as though he asked for her permission to attempt something new, and in his eyes you could see clear discomfort.

The smaller nation looked at him, hiding her tiny bit of shock at his request. For him to go against their usual traditions was special, no matter if it were traditions he shared with his people or traditions he had formed for his person and his person only. That meant, if he was serious, he had a thought behind it. And if Liechtenstein knew him as well as she dared to claim she knew this thought, this reason behind it, meant a lot to him.

So she simply decided to support him, knowing it was harder for him than one could imagine and many would believe. For things to be the same year after year was one of the most precious things for him, instead of letting his old traditions get tainted, depraved and corrupted by current thought and technology. To change even the smallest thing was a giant step for him.

"Nein, it's not too different," the therefore said, chuckling a little to lighten his mood. "It could actually be nice to look at it for one day longer. Is that why you want it early?" she questioned on, wanting to know his motives behind the change.

Instead of a nod she got a shrug for an answer as they moved into the living room. The only sign of Christmas in his house were the candles in the window. "Non, it is more because it is only the two of us." The answer was both unexpected and, to her, a little saddening. It seemed a reminder of the loneliness she knew her brother still enveloped himself in even if there was no hint of pain to feel in his voice or see in his eyes. It wasn't meant as a bad thing. "I realized… if we collected the tree at the 23rd instead we could decorate it tomorrow and solely focus on making the food at the 24th… It would make it possible to do things a little more slowly."

It nearly brought tears to her eyes to hear his reasons. For a man who always worked and never sat still her brother had a special love of simply being in life, but in his usual way of living he never got the chance of that. Even today, on the 22nd of December, he'd worked. He wanted to relax and breathe life in the little time he had… and more than that, he wanted to do it with her. He wanted things to be relaxed for them a little longer, so they could be together in peace a little further. Meaning they should use two days instead of one on Christmas.

So all she could do was nod, and she did so too fiercely and excitedly for her age. "I think it is a wonderful idea, Bruder. Absolutely wonderful!"

She'd just tell him the other thing later. Right now, at least, he seemed to be at peace and happy. He wouldn't be happy by what she should tell him, so she wouldn't destroy that now.

* * *

The next day they spend finding their tree, debating how tall it should be, determining this or that was the most beautiful and if the current subject of attention had the best spots for Christmas candles. They were at a tree farm and the owner watched them from a distance with a worried glance at Switzerland's small stature.

When they finally chose a tree of 1.5 meters in height the owner stepped forward to help them, but while Liechtenstein approached him with friendly chatter, Switzerland ignored his attempts of helping, cutting down the tree with hundreds of years of experience and easily managing to lift it back to their car.

Back home they took it into the small living room and decorated it, using the same décor they had for at least fifty years. It were the same fifteen crystal balls, clear to look through, same ten stars made of solid gold, same ten ice crystals made of silver and same twenty five silver candle holders with pure white candles, all carefully protected and taken care of due to their incredibly great value. At the top they placed the star, made of silver, to finish the impression of the slightly cold, very simple

It was neither impressive nor outstanding, but it was exactly the amount Switzerland preferred. Rug and furniture was respectfully removed to let the tree stand in the middle, the candles lit and not tainted by the presence of electric light. Just for two minutes he wanted to see it, and they sat in each their own arm chair, watching it peacefully beside each other.

Liechtenstein turned to him, deciding to use now to tell him the news of their New Year's Eve. It stabbed her with a knife of bad conscience to see him, though, his eyelids drooping to sleep even after only a single day without the stress of working to keep him going. The time had only reached four in the afternoon. But the faster she told him, the faster he would accept it… she hoped. She wanted to spend the rest of the day as well as the next with him, just enjoying their time.

"Um… Vash?" she asked, making him open his eyes again, alerted. "Did you see America's email from the other day?"

The question seemed odd to the Swiss as he turned to look at her. "The usual one concerning the Christmas party?" he asked, speaking of the normal invitation to the party for the country incarnations. The one they always answered no to, and which he had begun simply deleting from when it was received. They had been there, on Liechtenstein's wish, three times, and he had never found it enjoyable.

"Nein, not that one. The one about the New Year…"

Switzerland shook his head for an answer, already now getting irritated. It was the same with that party, even if he had been there more often. In parts of Switzerland you celebrated New Year twice, so he didn't feel he lost as much by coming over to the American on the 31st – as long as he was ready again the 13th of January. But still… he preferred being at home, with her. The others were simply annoyances in the way, noisy and childish like always.

"Well, America encountered a problem, you see?" she softly said, knowing he wouldn't be even close to happy. "The crisis has hit him hard, so his boss won't allow him to host both parties, unlike normally. It costs too much money, apparently… So… he sent his message around, first inviting everyone to the Christmas Party, then apologizing that he couldn't hold the New Years. He sounded really sad in the mail, so I contacted him… just to make sure he was okay…"

This went against more or less every teaching he had given her, but one didn't simply turn off their social tendencies – at least not without good reasons, and simply being asked to stop contacting others isn't a good reason. Especially not if you are as concerned and caring as the little, German nation. The condemnation was in his eyes, but she knew he wasn't really angry with her. Somehow his anger always turned to the people around her instead.

"And really, he was very sad, and we ended up talking to each other over the phone…" The male's eyes narrowed but she simply acted like she didn't see it. Probably for the best. "I told him I had managed through the crisis quite well I might be able to do something instead… and he got so happy, even if I only said it to cheer him up… so I have now promised to host the party at my own home, and I would like to ask you to come?"

She sounded so very hesitant. The more she said, the more horrified the Swiss was. It took him a long while to answer, as though he had to collect his thoughts as to not yell at her. What he said, though, wasn't something she wanted to hear. "No. You are not going to hold anything."

"B-but, I-I promised him. I can't back down!"

The Swiss was quiet for another while, then nodded. "Okay." He sounded far too accepting for her comfort. A normal reaction would have for him to grow angry enough to curse, not for him to just give in to the idea. The oddness made her uneasy. "Have you sent the invitations?"

"Um, no, not yet. I am planning to do it tonight, but I wanted to tell you first… Why so, Bruder?"

"Change your name to mine and the place to my place."

"B-but, Bruder, that's…"

"I don't want a horde of nations running around in your home. It's too dangerous" and I don't know if I can get them out, "so the location will be here instead." Quietly she watched him and recognized the usual stubbornness in his eyes. It would be impossible to stop him unless she found the stubbornness she had adapted from him.

But she didn't want him to do it – he hated strangers in his home, even if they were normal, Swiss citizens. Inviting people who she knew he more or less considered enemies and still saw as strangers wasn't high on his list. It wasn't fair of her to let him do that to himself. "I can easily take care of it, Bruder."

"Nein, I do not want you to."

"I-"

"I said no. It will be held here, I won't allow them to come at your place. It would even be best if you didn't come here, either," her eyes widened in shock at the thought, but before she could get to argue he had lifted his hand to silence her, "but I don't want you alone at New Year. So you can be a part of this year's party, but it will be _here_."

Eyes still widened she watched him, wanting to continue the argument but feeling she would lose and not wanting to anger him more than absolutely necessary. Not because she feared he would hate her, but because he had been so calm and relaxed just moments ago, and she wanted him to be in that state. In the little time he allowed himself to be free she didn't want him to waste it.

"Then I'll… I'll pay for everything. For the decorations and such, for I know we don't have them. I created the situation, so it is only fair…"

He sat in silence for a moment, for she had of course hit one of his sore spots. Whose bank account would this be felt on? His morals told him to deny her everything and buy it himself, his brain said it wasn't clever. Looking at the candles on the Christmas tree he mentally debated the problem, trying to get rid of the slumbering anger always combined with talking of the rest of the world.

In the end he simply stood up and started blowing out the candles again, on after one. "Okay," he mumbled after the first five had grown dark. "You'll pay, but we'll do it fifty-fifty." Watching him as he worked Liechtenstein gave a nod and a smile, and as he saw he couldn't stop the smallest twitch around the corner of his mouth before it disappeared again.

The sole way to make this better would be to make him smile for real. And, of course, for him to not feel annoyed and burdened but this new, unexpected thing coming up and destroying their traditional New Year. Even if he didn't show it she knew it was only because she was who she was that he wasn't screaming his head off. "I'll help you find things. You won't be doing this alone."

His face had once more turned from hers as he continued extinguishing the flames of the candles. "It's a deal, then…" he agreed as the last flame died.

* * *

The week after Christmas became extraordinary busy. Mainly because the Swiss nation refused to keep from working yet wanted to help his sister find the needed decorations they did not have at his home. As always the Liechtensteiner ended up worrying for him, but the two whole days of sole focus on Christmas had done him well and given him a excess energy to grumble over the New Year's party.

Usually everything was taken care of by America, but Switzerland demanded for people to either bring some form of food to share, bring money for the food or come after dinner was eaten. If you wanted to drink, bring your own or be satisfied with water. In general, the usual frugalness didn't stand back simply because it was a holiday, and as she was the one to take care of the emails, Liechtenstein chose to keep the complaints to herself.

Still, people agreed to come. Especially after America told them he totally agreed with the installment and was totally going as well, because it would be far more awesome than usually. America also had other surprises for them… as he suddenly knocked on the door the 29th, smiling bright as he met the Liechtensteiner standing inside.

"Hello!" he beamed, stretching out both arms to hug her, then retracing his steps a bit. Should he hug her? If he remembered correctly, her brother wouldn't approve, but he wasn't sure – he knew neither of them very well.

The female nation simply gave him a smile and a nod, making him settle for a handshake. It ended awkwardly as she complied – not out of fear of him, but rather due to the fact that she still kept the door between the two of them. She watched him from a small crack. "I didn't know you were coming. Why are you here?" Stranger-danger. But while she had only rarely spoken to him, she didn't think of him as a stranger. Yet she knew her Bruder did, and she respected his thoughts.

Or at least tried to.

"Well, I'm kinda the reason why you are in this situation, so I thought I might come and help you. I can clean and I can cook and I know a lot about hosting parties, so you might need help, right! It's not like you have been to many parties before! At least not mine."

He gave a laugh, but his words brought a little bit of bad conscience to her heart. The antisocial behavior of the two of them wasn't on her accord, and she now felt she had brought him a slight by not turning up a lot. Yet his smiling gave her confidence that he wasn't angry with her, even if she still suspected him to be hurt.

"I'm sorry, but Bruder isn't home yet." Her voice was small as his laughter died out. Slowly, after a bit of contemplating, she opened the door fully. "I think we need your help, ja, so… Um, if you don't mind, we can start immediately? If you place your baggage by the door we'll find an extra room. Or a hotel. It's all about what Bruder wishes for."

The American moved as she stepped aside, and his eyes immediately moved from corner to corner with pure wonder. The door brought him directly to the hall, but he could see the living room and found it wondrous. Everything was old, most furniture was homemade in wood and the TV wasn't even flat! "Man, I like your place! It's like stepping into an old home on the prairie, just a lot colder outside! I like the atmosphere."

The two bags he had brought fell to the floor and he stepped out of his boots, throwing his designer-jacket over the worn ones upon Switzerland's coat hanger. His behavior made Liechtenstein relieved her brother wasn't home. Had he heard the other's words he'd most likely have thrown him out again, feeling the other treated him like some form of specimen to observe. Like he was a freak accused of still living in the 17th century.

She could see the compliment, on the other hand, and she gave a single nod accompanied by an agreeing "mmh-hm." "That is what I love the most about this place. You can really feel…" him. The essence of who her Bruder was, and it wasn't as cold as everyone believed. At least that was what she thought.

Realizing she wasn't going to finish America simply gave a nod as well, moving into the living room to look around even more. "Where's the party gonna be- oh!" His eyes had fallen upon the Christmas tree, and though he thought it looked small, bare and dark without the electric lights he couldn't help but smile. Then he turned, continuing to speak. "This place is far too little, we're gonna be, like, many!" His eyes once more fell on the TV, trying to determine just how old it was and deciding it had to be from 2000 or older. Then he looked at her again, grinning. "Where is Switzerland even?"

His fast speech brought her a little out of balance, but until now she settled to find it amusing rather than annoying. There was little room for her to talk between his words, but she didn't care. It was the exact opposite of Switzerland and Austria, but if she compared him to what she had known of Hungary and Prussia she could pull from those experiences. "Vash is still at work." She didn't note the look of pure horror coming over the American's face at the thought of working in the Holidays. "And people aren't even allowed to come in-"

"What do you mean working?" the American questioned, and automatically Liechtenstein gave a shrug.

"He always does. I know he loves Christmas and the celebrations of New Year, but he always works in between." It was so normal she didn't even question it, and it was odd for her that the American did. "But what I was saying is that this part of the house will be closed off." She motioned for the American to follow her down the hall. "The house is big, as you can see from the outside, but Bruder has done a lot of work to separate some of the rooms with walls and make the ceilings lower. He doesn't like big rooms, you see? I think it's from habit. But the part of the house which he will use is this one."

They had walked all the way to the end of the hall to the part of the house most frequently covered by cobwebs. The door at the end was larger than the rest, unfittingly so compared the general theme of an aged farmer home. As she pushed the door open it creaked loudly, reminding the poor American of a haunted house, but inside it wasn't spooky or creepy.

The room was gigantic. The ceiling was high, reaching up four meters, and hanging from it were old, electric chandeliers from the start of the 20th century. The walls, their colors wasted with age, ornate with woodcarvings from a wooden panel by the floor up past the windows to a similar wooden panel under the roof. Each of those windows were placed high up, starting two and a half meters above the floor and ending half a meter from the flat ceiling. In front of them were curtains, moth-eaten and faded, but a deep burgundy could still be seen.

It was old, yes. But even more so…

"it's beautiful," America immediately spoke, moving inside and swirling around. "It's like those few times the Austria-guy invited to ball-thingies. Is it a ball-room? I thought Switzerland was-"

"Well, looks like one," the Liechtensteiner said before the American finished, not wanting to know what thoughts the man had of her brother. "I have never seen him use it, though." Not a single time in the years she had been here, and they had lived in this house forever. "Bruder has drawn present electrical outlets into the room now." The cables were clear on the floor, following the panels around the room. "I have been cleaning up all the while. We are nearly finished." Her gaze was constantly upon him, but now it got accompanied by a smile. "You wanted to help."

"Hell yeah!" the American enthusiastically said, and together they found the cleaning remedies together. When comparing his behavior to the American's usual one the Liechtensteiner couldn't help but be surprised by his determination in such a boring activity.

After helping him for a short while she realized he was doing fine on his own, running around with the mop and playing that it was a hockey field, so she slipped away. "I'm going to call Bruder so he knows you're here."

The other stopped working, frowning. "Huh?"

"Well, just so he can calm down before he comes home." She gave a last little smile before slipping out the door and into the kitchen. Dialing his number on her cell phone she took a deep breath, readying herself for his yelling.

* * *

Two nights later America, Switzerland and Liechtenstein stood waiting by the front door. It had taken a while for Switzerland to accept America's presence, and the American had kindly been moved to a hotel, but when the younger nation was willing to pay a little of the costs the Swiss could no longer deny him.

It took not long before the rest arrived. Flamboyantly France came in as the first, his clothes wet from snow but him face still smiling widely. He contacted Switzerland in fast speaking French as he dragged him closer, kissing him on each cheek a few times. Neither America nor Liechtenstein understood him, but they recognized words like 'merci', 'invité', 'grande' and 'difficulté'. The Swiss answered back with a grumbling answer in the same language, moving away from the newcomer sooner than it was appropriate, but both reactions simply made the Frenchman laugh as he turned to the rest.

"As I just told dear Switzerland, it was very nice of you to invite me. I'm sure the evening will be great!" Returning her smile France took Liechtenstein's hand and gave it a kiss, deliberately ignoring the lightning sent for him by the Swiss' green eyes. America simply got a wink before France moved on into the house, looking around to see if he could get a glimpse of the introverted Swiss' life before getting stuffed away into the presented part of the house.

Being who he was, the Frenchman didn't hide his intentions, and the Swiss sent an angry yell at him to go on straight ahead. The only thing keeping him in his place was the fact that other people came along, the sound of Prussia's annoying laugh alerting him that the next idiot was coming to his home and invading his privacy. Luckily he came with Germany walking a little behind him, looking annoyed, so there might be one to keep both idiots at bay.

It was a conscious decision for Switzerland to ignore the presence of the noisy Italian. Even when France arrived he hadn't been in the mood of showing off language skills.

"Guten Tag," Germany properly nodded, probably the only sensible being present other than Switzerland and his sister. At least in Switzerland's mind and he could already now feel he would hate this evening.

Still you had to at least try to be civil, right?

For this reason both Switzerland and Liechtenstein answered in kind with him while America laughed and made a "you too!" He was kind enough not to attempt to speak German among the German-speaking nations. Yet his reaction still seemed to annoy both of those 'sensible' males.

Prussia, on the other hand, simply gave him a high five, asking who else had arrived and grinned when he heard France was there. "You're coming in, too?" he asked the American, wanting already now to party and have fun. As they were supposed to.

"Nah, I'm helping out here," the American explained, though, and Prussia gave a shrug and continued, leaving Germany and the Italian clinging to said blond.

"Ciao!" North Italy said while Germany was sighing over his brother, and further behind came yet another man – the other Italian – with Spain tagging along behind him. Switzerland nodded to either of them as they came inside without even attempting to smile, the Spaniard respecting his space unlike the Frenchman.

Even as the rest of the group moved past him, the Northern Italian trying to drag him on, Germany hesitated while looking at the Swiss. "Where should I put our things?" He had brought their share of food and drinks and held it in four bags hanging from his hands.

The Swiss simply gave a look at the American, then back into the blue eyes of the far taller, far broader man. "America will show you," he answered, and the mentioned nation gave a nod, a smile and a thumbs-up before moving in with them. The look on Germany's face at the knowledge that he was momentarily forced to be in America's company _nearly_ got Switzerland in a better mood.

But that better mood stopped immediately afterward. He felt Liechtenstein secret tug a warning at his sleeve, but his head was turned towards the leaving group. Therefore he was absolutely not ready as he turned his head. "Guten Tag, Vash, Lily," a thin voice announced, curt and strict.

"Schweiz," the Swiss immediately corrected, his stare finding the Austrian's violet ones without kindness or hesitation. "Nicht Vash." Don't call me by my name when we are not friends. The Austrian simply wrinkled his nose, and it was first when the outstretched hand from the other fell that Switzerland realized they should have shaken hands.

To help the two get out of the uncomfortable situation Liechtenstein gave a bright smile and tried to stir a conversation which was a little friendlier. "Are you coming alone?" she questioned, stretching out her own hand to let him greet her. And he did, letting her knuckles touch his lips as he bowed and she automatically curtsied.

When he once more stood up straight and Switzerland still glared daggers at him, he slowly shook his head. "Nein, but Elizabeta is getting our things from the car," he explained.

"For you are of course unable to do it yourself," Switzerland could not help saying.

"Had it not been for your greed we would not need to bring anything."

"Had it not been for the world's economic stupidity I wouldn't have been forced to hold this in the first place. But neither of that excuses your inability to get off your lazy ass and actually do just a tiny bit of proper work and help out a woman."

"I think we are both aware that Elizabeta is fully capable of carrying-"

"Hello, Lily!" a female voice finally stopped them, making all three look over at the woman they spoke of. Switzerland's eyes darkened another bit when Hungary physically moved in between him and Austria to get an arm around Liechtenstein. The arm was weighed down with bag, but that didn't stop her from hugging her friend tightly. "Thank you for inviting us," she continued as she let her go, then looked up and Switzerland.

Her smiling continued, but the Swiss felt sure he could see it stiffen just a bit. None of the others seemed to notice, Liechtenstein simply smiling widely. "And thank you, too, for allowing us in your home."

"Sure," the Swiss simply answered, forcing himself to be at least a little bit proper and taking the hand she offered him. The usual phrases of polite and proper social guidance weren't really rehearsed with him, so he left it there.

This meant Liechtenstein was forced to take over, and she clearly noticed the obvious strain in her brother's body language when he looked at the two. "I will show you where to place your food and where the party is held," she said, motioning them with her. Switzerland looked after her, clearly not wanting to leave her with them, but she simply smiled. "I'll be back in a moment, Bruder."

He didn't get to argue even one bit. Vaguely a feeling of betrayal spread in him, and it only worsened when he turned around again and found himself staring right into the chest of another individual wearing a far too familiar beige coat. And when he raised his head he found sparkling violet eyes on top of a sickening smile. "Privyet!" a high-pitched voice greeted, and automatically the smaller nation took a step back, not wanting to be too close to this particular person.

Part of him didn't want to be alone now, with this man, while another part was quite satisfied his sister wasn't present. "Welcome," he managed to choke out, first noticing the two sisters as he forced his hand forward to shake the other man's. The younger's eyes were on him threateningly, like just touching Russia challenged her position to her brother, while the older sister clearly felt misplaced and uncomfortable.

"Spasiba," the giant man sang, taking the other's hand in a challenging grip compared to the disarming smile on his face. With all his willpower Vash made sure not to flinch, standing his ground until the greater nation let him go. "Where to go now?" the Russian questioned in a childish manner that got on Switzerland's nerves, letting go of his hand.

"At the end of the hall," the Swiss simply said, nodding and waiting till all three siblings were turned away before he rubbed his aching hand. Ukraine's head was lowered, constantly diverting her eyes to the people around her, and even before they had come all the way down America and Liechtenstein moved back towards him together, meaning a staring contest was initiated between the two great powers as they moved past one another.

Still the American was at the Swiss nation's side along with Liechtenstein, letting go of his annoyance to keep helping. He could kill the guy later in the evening. "So, 'sup dude, we're back!" the young nation informed, grinning a wide grin from ear to ear. As Switzerland had no idea exactly how to acknowledge this while the two nations placed themselves beside him he simply moved away, thereby not seeing the American's confused look at his silence.

Once more not a long time passed before the next guest arrived, England coming through the doors and removing his hat and coat in a proper, classy manner. Then he turned around, regarded the American with his prominent eyebrows raised before he stuck out his hand to greet them all one by one. "Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Switzerland," he first said, then went on to Liechtenstein, complimenting her appearance.

America simply got a nod before the younger nation tackled him into a hug. "Thanks for coming, ol' man," the American grinned, letting go of his body only to drag him by the hand. "Come on in! I helped cleaning up!"

They disappeared through the door and Switzerland unenthusiastically turned away, waiting for the next person to come along and invade his personal space. It didn't even take two minutes before you could hear England yelling loudly within the room while France's distinctive laugh resounded, and a deep sigh came from the Swiss nation.

* * *

Even after everyone arrived and after the music was flowing, after the food had been placed and when the socialization began for real, Switzerland showed no improvement in his mood. Rather than even trying to make the best of it he had found a corner and sat, sulking and keeping an eye on everyone. If the wrong people dared to talk to Liechtenstein, he'd be there. If someone dared destroy something on his property, he'd be there. Until then he wouldn't move to mingle, barely taking his role as a host into account.

His guests had noticed, but believing that they knew him pretty well after a few hundred years they decided to let him sulk on his own. Even if the most considerate worried about ruining the New Year for him, they weren't interested in getting yelled at for contacting him… and with the mood he seemed to be in, getting yelled at was really the only possibility.

The night went on as usually, the people normally causing trouble creating trouble, the people normally attempting to get a peaceful night trying to get the troublesome apart. Mostly it was laughter and innocent teasing, the mood light for this celebration despite tensions between specific countries and the odd place it was kept.

In another corner, keeping to themselves when Prussia or Hungary didn't drag them into social situations, Austria and Germany spoke, a can of beer in Germany's hand while Austria twirled wine in his glass. In the beginning the conversation was focused between them, their eyes only diverting out to other people every once in a while when they either got too noisy or their conversation touched the particular person. Liechtenstein got invited, spoke to them for a while and then got caught up with the girls usually speaking to her, and both the men nodded goodbye.

But as time went on the Austrian's gaze hung more and more on to their host as said man stared out over the crowd, green eyes falling deeper into a deadly mood with every passing mood. "He's not even _trying_ to enjoy this," the man complained in a sudden outburst, making the blond German raise his eyebrows. It was normal for the two men to clash during meetings or parties when both were present, but the German didn't know it was Austria who started their arguments. Switzerland was a little more hotheaded, after all, and more often it seemed they just ended up passing by each other and suddenly negative words were exchanged.

"Do you care?" the blond therefore questioned, watching his cousin closely. The German could easily admit that he felt slightly bad for putting the Swiss in this situation, but what could he do about it? The Swiss had done it himself. Though of course the German didn't know the details of how the yearly New Year's Party had ended in the hands of one of the most antisocial nations alive.

"I, eh, no, I don't!" the Austrian spluttered, his composure for a moment flickering at the bold yet obvious accusation. Then the brunet realized the slip he managed to pick up, his face once more going emotionally blank while his back straightened. "I just… think it isn't proper for a host to entertain his guests in that manner. And as I have experience in hosting balls for many years, I know how a man takes care of the people he's invited."

There were slightly stubborn lines on the Austrians face, and Germany simply sighed. "Just don't go over and say it to his face. We don't need an argument," the blond instructed, afraid he might have started some horrible bad mood in the other, oversensitive man.

And the look he got was insulted, yes. Very insulted, even, as the violet eyes stared into the blue ones with hidden fury. "I would never speak to him with the intention of arguing. He is simply overreacting, that's all. I have nothing to do with his lashing out at me."

Knowing all too well the self righteousness of the Austrian Germany let it be, also letting his eyes grace the Swiss again. Somehow France had managed to slip away from his noisy friends and moved over to the smaller man, attempting to start a conversation. The Frenchman was clearly slightly tipsy, and his smile was wide and charming. Obvious annoyance and discomfort filled the Swiss' face, and clearly the German could see this wasn't going well.

Beside him Austria shifted, keeping his face void of too much movement but unable to keep his body still. It was hard not to sigh again over the complications the two allowed to have between them. Germany honestly wondered at time if they couldn't just talk about it instead of masking everything – at least he knew his cousin well enough to know his façade hid something more. For the Swiss he didn't know if it was simple, pure hate that caused the arguments, but Austria would never be fazed like that by someone he simply couldn't stand. Prussia was proof of it.

The fidgeting from the Austrian continued, and the German was just about to move over and find a more comfortable conversation partner – maybe he could get Italy's attention away from Sealand and the other micronations. That was when Austria's eyes moved to him, obviously demanding something. Him demanding something wasn't unexpected, but the vibrations he received were odd, confusing, out of the aristocrat's normal character…

When the German finally got it, understood what he was ordered, he blinked. The silent demand from hard, violet eyes continued staring, the look getting harder for each passing second. In the other corner the Swiss stood, loudly demanding something from the Frenchman – it was in French, so Germany couldn't understand – while backing up a little. Finding no other choice the German rolled his eyes, stepping forward and taking a great mouthful of air into his lungs.

"EVERYONE!" He had not expected to use his military voice to a party. It actually annoyed him to have to go through the trouble, for he already had trouble socializing with the other nations… and continuously being a party pooper and yelling at people didn't help at all. "GET OUT, NOW!" All eyes were on him. Had he not been so used to leading people, or had the attention come from anything else than yelling out for them, his face would have been flushed a deep red.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Switzerland shouted, unconsciously pushing away France as he stomped through the room to get to the bigger nation. The Frenchman showed no hint of anger by the treatment, instead confused by the sudden and apparently unprovoked yelling.

Germany simply gave the Swiss a knowing look as the smaller stopped right in front of him, causing the Swiss to get even more annoyed. "I am getting everyone out of your house," the German calmly explained, then turned away to the rest of them as the Swiss blinked uncomprehending. "YOU HEARD ME! GET A MOVE ON!"

The complaints were many but quickly silenced. In an attempt to lighten the guests' mood Liechtenstein advised them on other places they could go for a good celebration still within the Swiss borders even if Switzerland weren't much up for it. Midnight was still far away, meaning they had time to move to the possible parties they decided to visit.

As the last few disappeared only Germany, Austria, North Italy, Hungary and a sulking Prussia remained as foreigners in the house. Awkward silence ensued, with a little bit of awkward shifting as they wondered what next step should be. The party being a success would be the lie of the year, and the Swiss still seemed in a bad mood, but these people had just helped him protect his New Year's experience, and throwing them out seemed unkind.

Yet that was all he wanted to do.

After another moment the German cleared his throat, taking the attention again. "I do not expect you to want us to stay?" It was a mix of a question and a statement, followed by silence. Aware it would be impolite but barely caring the Swiss shifted a little more, trying to figure out how direct he could be when throwing them out as well.

He didn't get to, though. For Liechtenstein noticed a clock on the wall and realized the time.

"Oh! We're missing it!" Everyone's attention fell on her, all of them confused. She just continued speaking, explaining. "Der 90. Geburtstag. If we should see it at the usual time we have to go in now."

A light of understanding dawned on all the German-speaking nation's faces while Hungary couldn't help rolling her eyes, and Germany and Prussia collectively turned to Switzerland. "Do you see it, too?" they questioned as one, making the Swiss cross his arms with annoyance.

"Of course I do! I even recorded my own version of it – you should know that!" he snapped, clearly annoyed with them.

"Ah, do you really have to see it again? You have to have seen it more than fifty times at this point," the Hungarian complained, having found the sketch fun the first fifteen times she had been forced to watch it with either Austria, Prussia or both of them. After that it seemed unnecessary to her.

"Veeh, it's that normal movie-thing we see every year, right Germany?" the Italian asked, looking between the other male nations faces. "That funny thing with the butler and the pretty old lady?" A sigh sounded from the Hungarian, but she couldn't help a small smile at the honesty in Veneziano's face and the passion she could detect in the other male nations. It was just an old sketch to her, nothing more.

"Ja it is, Italy," Liechtenstein answered with a nod, smiling innocently as Switzerland and the two German brothers held a small, annoyed staring contest.

"Excuse me, everyone, but…" the Austrian began, pausing to wait until all of them had their eyes on him. When it happened he finished. "If we want to see it, shouldn't we find a TV and then leave afterwards? If that is what is decided?"

Reluctantly the Swiss found himself agreeing, and the other German nations seemed to do so as well, not wanting to miss the program. And for the first time all evening the doors to one of his personal rooms were opened to reveal his living room. As it was only supposed to be used for him and his sister there were seats fit for four people only, meaning they needed extra.

His eyes moved through the room, trying to think of a solution before he sighed in defeat. "Take some chairs from the ballroom," he mumbled, Hungary immediately moving out to follow his request. At this he had to grit his teeth to hide his annoyance until Germany followed her. "And Lily, can you find the right channel?"

"Yes, Bruder," the younger nation said, smiling as she found the remote controller. While she did the Swiss went to the Christmas tree still standing in the room, finding a lighter to turn on the candles one more time.

Behind him Prussia was staring in wonder, as though finding a Christmas tree at New Year's was the most wonderful thing. "See, Bruder!" the albino nation burst, his eyes fixed on Germany as the man came back inside with more chairs. "Christmas trees are awesome! They should stay for as long as they want, not get taken down before the New Year! It's so unawesome!"

The bigger blond just gave a sigh. "It's messy to keep. But come on and sit down now."

"Why are you lighting it, though?" the Prussian continued, not even caring for his brother's explanation and watching the Swiss intently.

"Tradition," the Swiss simply said, daring the Prussian to taunt him for it, but what he found in the man's eyes was simple curiosity. Still a part of him felt targeted, and he was just about to say something more when his sister spoke again.

"Found it!"

"Awesome!" Prussia shouted, jumping over to the TV. Reluctantly Switzerland followed, sitting down as well among most of the people who were supposedly his family. Yet as the program started they could not help enjoying it, and at some points they laughed. Switzerland even cracked a smile in front of them all. Watching the poor butler's suffering with them nearly made it nice to be with the others…

And when the show had ended they spent the rest of the celebration together.

* * *

I don't know how much you know of that program, but it is widely seen in many parts of Northern Europe. Here in Denmark it is my own tradition to see it as well, and it is incredibly stupid how an old program like that can keep being funny and can make people come together. It creates family truces in the midst of the New Year's celebration, and even when I celebrate New Years outside my family I watch it with my friends. It's truly an odd program.

But other than that, I hope you like my writing! It is far from my favorite of these, but I am still quite satisfied.

Enjoy in joy ^^


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